Category Archives: creative writing

Are You Raw Enough?

July 22, 2012 By in Blogging, creative writing, finding your voice, Life, raw Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 37 Comments

Every now and then you hear the comment bloggers need to be more raw and share their inner most thoughts. It is by being raw that you can only be true to your readers and to yourself.  But when I look at the meaning of raw it makes me wonder about my voice. Is it authentic enough?

The Definition of Raw:

1 : Not Cooked.

I can leave a check mark next to this  because I am definitely not cooked! Maybe just a little tanned…

2 a (1) : being in or nearly in the natural state : not processed or purified (2) : not diluted or blended

Sometimes if you catch me in a foul mood raw sewage does spew from my mouth. But do you really want to read my posts when I am in a scathing mood?

c : not being in polished, finished, or processed form
Well I never went to etiquette school so I am definitely not polished! However, do you want to read one of my drafts that lack paragraphs and misspelled words. I think not!

3 (1) : having the surface abraded or chafed (2) : very irritated

I hate when my sports bra chafes against my skin or I break out into the hives. I suspect you feel the same way! So I would never want to rub you the wrong way.

b : lacking covering : naked

Well do you really want to see me bare it all even if my itsy bits are photoshopped? I highly doubt it!

c : not protected : susceptible to hurt

Do you share everything? Are you willing to open that door? I sometimes open it a little but at the end of the day I do not want to be left vulnerable to the world.

4 a : lacking experience or understanding : green

I lack in a lot of areas of expertise. So will I write about that? Heck No!

b (1) : marked by absence of refinements (2) : vulgar, coarse

Yes! I confess!  I am guilty of vulgar language! And I do love to drop the F-Bomb from time to time.

c : not tempered : unbridled

Snort! If I was a wiccan I could have raw power! Summoning my inner goddess for world domination in order to make love not war and end child poverty. But sadly my powers are futile and the best I can do is imagine a world built on peace as I lounge by the camp fire.

5: disagreeably damp or cold

Well! Yes! I hate being cold! And it makes me cranky which leads me to a foul-weathered mood and in the end cursing up a storm.

Does any of  these different meanings make my authentic voice raw? No it makes me human. I believe at the end of the day how we share our thoughts makes our voice authentic to the reader.  But to worry about breaking down every emotional barrier to be more raw is tiresome. Quite frankly, I’m all rawed out!

How would you describe your voice? Do you believe you are raw enough?

Knock! Knock! Is that an Idea at My Door?

June 8, 2012 By in Blogging, creative writing, ideas, inspiration Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , 45 Comments

One of my dog’s favorite pass times is to wait by the window and watch the movements in the neighborhood. She will bark at the rabbit that hops about  and alerts us to the UPS man who puts his foot on our door step.

In many respects I am like my dog because I entertain myself by watching and waiting for an idea to appear at my front door. At those times I am waiting for that special moment where all the puzzle pieces go together.

It is after five minutes I give up and go back to smashing my head against the keyboard.  But when I get distracted by going to the coffee shop, biking with my kids, or puttering in the garden an idea will appear without hesitation.

I find it is when I’m looking out the window that I feel lost. I am waiting for something but can’t put my finger on it.  It is at those moments I am just like my dog waiting for something to happen instead of taking action to make it happen.

Does an idea just magically appear at your doorstep? Or do you take action to make it happen?

Blogger Burn-Out

April 16, 2012 By in Blogger Burn-Out, Blogging, creative writing, Creativity, inspiration, writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , 74 Comments

Blogger burn-out is a phase when words do not compute with your brain. You have ideas! Endless ideas! But somehow they are not working their way to the page. Instead, you walk, you talk, you clean, and do anything but write. I have been having one of those months!

I’m calling it a very bad case of blogger burn-out!

I suspect it is something that can happen to the best of us as we deal with other daily stressors.  It is at those times I am apt to blog less and become very unsociable.

I look at my blog. It looks at me. I shut down my screen. I pretend it does not exist. It is not waiting for me. But at the same time I know I need to write, speak, say anything!

But the words fail. They hand at my finger tips! The only thing left is to recharge, take a deep breath, inhale the fresh air, and reads a book or two or three or four.

It was with that to return to my blog and hope it will forgive me like a reckless lover dashing off at the end of a passionate night.  Sometimes I feel like I have failed and must try harder! But how?

Do you ever suffer from blogger burn-out? How do you recharge your batteries?

The Frozen Scream

October 22, 2011 By in Blogging, creative writing, fiction, ghost story, Halloween, Horror Genre, short story Tags: , , , , , , , , 28 Comments

[Thoughts Appear is rationing for the Zombie apocalypse and I suspect she has a very large stockpile of Pop Tarts to sustain her through the madness. She also has a deep love for all things Halloween. She recommends to " write about Halloween: costumes, candy, scary stories."]


Mary was laying on the couch eating the last of the Halloween candy. It was getting late and it appeared no more goblins, witches, or ghouls would be knocking on her door. She finished reading her last blog post for the evening.

She had recently gained a new follower and couldn’t think of the words of disgust  to describe his last post. It almost made her mouth gag from the sadistic photos which appeared across her screen. It was the last thing she wanted to see or read before going to bed.

She thought when she clicked on The Devil Yearns for Your Soul. It would be the campy Halloween blogs she had grown to love. It was not! It was sheer horror!

As she walked up the stairs shaking off what she just saw thinking what if there was such thing as the devil.Would he be so cruel?  She felt  a cool breeze run up her spine and it was enough to confirm her answer.

She went into her room and  reached for her cashmere sweater.  She pulled it down over her tank top and realized it was going to be one of those cold sleepless nights.

The wind had picked up outside, as she peered outside her window she saw darkness and a shadow which seemed to be lingering from the lamp-post. It was her mind once again playing tricks on her. It was after all Halloween and the images she just saw were still extremely hard to shake from her mind.

She wandered back downstairs to shut off the lights and ensure the doors were locked. She sighed, You never know who could be roaming in the neighborhood on a night like tonight.

Mary slowly walked back up the stairs and stubbing her toe! She let out a loud curse! And hobbled into bed. It was at this point all she wanted sleep as she pulled the warm duvet  over her head.

It was several hours later a loud knock on the door slowly wrestled her out of her deep sleep.  She slowly opened her eyes, looked at the clock ,it was midnight, she let out a muffled curse, and attempted to roll out of bed.

As she tried to sit up she felt a tingling sensation and realized she could not move. Her whole body had retaliated against her and it was a dead weight.  She was pinned to the bed by her own body. She tried to scream for help but all she could do was moan. She was in the depths of a heavy sleep paralysis and she was helpless until it wore off.

She kept looking around the room as the knocks got louder and louder. Was someone in the house?  She began to coax her thoughts, Stay Calm! Stay  calm! Just stay calm and it will wear off!

She maintained calm for a second until her eyes were fixated on what was clutching her arms and standing above her. In the  blackness of the night all she could see was red eyes peering at her, chanting in tongues, and it’s touch burning her to the bone.

Mary attempted to move but all she could do is wither and open her mouth with a frozen scream as her soul was consumed by the darkness.  The devil crackled a laugh and whispered, “The Devil Yearns for Your Soul.”

Will he be coming for you next?  Do you have a favorite horror  or ghost story?

The Unknown Road

October 20, 2011 By in creative writing, Dharma Bums, feminism, fiction, Jack Kerouac, Life, motherhood, musings, random thoughts, thoughts Tags: , , , , , , , , , 24 Comments

[T.  of "As Long  as I'm Singing" a rock n' roller with a good sense of humor who embraces his faith recently confessed he talks to his blog. It was a great relief to me that I was not the only one! T. asks "Would your life be any different, fundamentally, if you were the opposite sex of the one you are now?"]

As I look at the dishes in the kitchen, the garden that needs tending, and  the laundry piled in the basement. I sit and attempt to focus on my computer screen as two little widgets run about around the table, “Mom! Can we have a snack!”

I graciously grab the snack, send them outside, and try to regain my thoughts!  I sigh, where  was I going? Who am I? What would life be if I were a man? 

I reflect back, think of my early twenties, and retreat to my shelf examining the beat – up copy of Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac. As  I gaze at the cover I dream I was traveling the open road with my knap sack never knowing the adventure that rambled around the corner.

Now that was the life and that was a man. If I was a man Dharma Bums would have been my bible. I would be the man without responsibility traveling down the unknown road.

I would rely only on my knapsack, a journal, and life free of responsibility. My quest to search for meaning, listening to jazz, and meeting a motley crew of characters along the way.

However, as a woman the freedom to hitchhike or hop a train eludes me.  The freedom of living the life carefree without concern of security, roaming the earth, and enjoying the fine mountain grass evades my presence.

It is the now that I look at the messy house, the weedy garden, and look to my children. I have a home full of warmth and love. It is this security that surrounds me with a warm  blanket.

It might not be the freedom of the open road but it keeps me grounded.  It is by staying grounded I learn that  life is about how you live it and embrace it. The open road will always be there to roam, characters will come and go, but to me there truly is no place like home.

Do you long for the open road? Or do believe there is no place like home?

Hot Pink and Smokin’

October 13, 2011 By in creative writing, fiction, short story, writing, Writing Prompt Tags: , , , , , , 28 Comments

[If I were brave took the fearless step to visit a silent retreat! EEKK! Needless, to say it was not what she imagined, she gave it a good 24 hours and then  opted for a good hotel with room service. She also dishes out great writing prompts such as this - Start your story with “My mother always told me not to play with fire.” End it with “And that’s how I ended up in the middle of nowhere—naked.”]

My Mother always told me not to play with fire. I knew the moment I saw him I was in trouble. He had those dark blue eyes, and had a swagger in his tight jeans. How could any woman resist? Jimmy was a player and I wanted a piece of the action.

It was the action that always drew me in to those men. He was leaning over the pool table ready to take a shot and I patiently waited for him to look-up. I was wearing just the perfect dress hot pink, tight, and low – cut. My stilettos accentuated the look by just keeping everything a little lift. I  slowly  walked over, “Got a light!”

Mermaid Smoking by JJ Levine

He flicked open his lighter and stood at attention  “Here you go darling!”

“Thanks Sugar!”

As I began to walk away he called out “What are you drinking?”

“I’ll have gin and tonic. Thanks!”

He followed behind me and ordered the drink to the waiter.

“So what are you doing in this dive?”

“I’m just enjoying the show!”

I looked him up and then down “I have to admit I like what I am seeing!”

He gave me a wink, “Would you like to see a little more?”

“That depends your place or mine.”

It’s with that we left the bar and hopped on the back of his Harley. We hit the open road and I enjoyed the exhilaration of the wind blowing through my hair. It was only a matter of time before I sealed the deal.

As we arrived at his house, I walked up the step, to discover it was completely under-surveillance. The cameras watched every move and I was in no mood for dealing with technology on that evening. We walked into the kitchen and headed straight to the back of the playboy pad.

He gave me a grin “What do you think of my new spot?”

I kept it smooth “It looks good!”

“So what is your party of choice?”

I gave him a curious grin, “I’ll just stick to the booze. Thanks!”

He handed me a scotch on the rocks, “Why don’t we take this party out to the hot tub.”

I clutched my purse under my arm, “Sounds good to me!”

I had to get in and out fast! The hot tub seemed to be the perfect solution. I cased the area and too my surprise it was the one place a camera wasn’t directed. I placed my open purse at the edge of the tub. I coyly slipped off my clothes and eagerly undressed him. The view of  his abs were impressive! He was quite the piece of work. It was shame I thought that such a nice piece would go to waste. But I knew there would always be others bigger and better.

I gave him a bite on the lips just enough to draw a little blood. He grinned, turned to reach his drink, taking his eyes off me. I quietly grabbed the magnum from my purse and I fired a single shot to the head.

My job was done for the night and I had to get out fast! It’s with that I looked my dress covered in blood! A perfectly good waste of Versace.

I grabbed my things and hopped the fence. I stood in the middle of nowhere naked  for several minutes wondering if I needed a new profession. Sometimes it wasn’t worth the mess!

If you could change professions what would you be?

The Sidewalk Ends

October 12, 2011 By in creative writing, Life's Journey, mindy smith, mountain view, Peace of Mind, The sidewalk ends Tags: , , , , , , , , , 13 Comments

[Virginia from the Kiss Chronicles has never been kissed and she is saving it for the highest bidder who donates the highest sum to cancer research. Now that's what I call making your first kiss special!  She is also looking for  your story you know the one about your awkward first kiss.  Her one question is "You’ve reached the place where the sidewalk ends. Where did it end, and what are you going to do next?"]

The morning down peers down on my face, I inhale the fresh air, and from my headset Mindy Smith’s Peace of Mind touches my soul. It is the perfect setting for a walk along the sidewalk path in the mountains. As I listen to the voice of an angel my tears well up and I let out a sigh. It’s been a long week and the days seem to be getting just a little longer. The stride in my step seems to be slowing down.  

My busy mind seems to clear because we are all trying for that peace of mind and a hopeful heart. It’s times, challenges, which make us stronger, and make us want to be better than who we are…

We all strive, over-think, have been broken , but at the same time it’s these cracked and worn pieces that make us who we are and who we want to be. We have all made mistakes sometimes we don’t need to be reminded sometimes we just need a gentle helping hand to be there for us.

It’s moments like this when clarity can seep in your soul for a glimpse of a second, the song ends, and you continue your step. You look up to discover beauty is all around you. The mountains will be here when you leave, looking down at us, and always remembering our stories. It’s when the sidewalk ends I take a deep breath and walk into the hotel to rejoin my family knowing it will all be okay.

Where does the sidewalk end for you?

It’s Spewing Leeks!

October 7, 2011 By in cooking disasters, creative writing, fun, fun funny, funny, Humor, It's spewing leeks, leek soup, leeks, Life, motherhood, one question, parenting, writing prompts Tags: , , , , , , , , , 28 Comments

[Paprika Furstenburg of Good Humored dashes up her blog with a good dose of  wit! She has made me chuckle going where no woman has gone before in the bathroom. Also  a known fact all walks of life find her very attractive especially  mosquitoes and a wide variety of bugs. She asks "What is the most disastrous meal you have ever cooked?"]

A sleep deprived mother with a husband travelling on the road is a lot to muster with a two-year old and infant in the cold winter months. It was one evening I was excited to have him return home to our little love nest. As the two-year old napped and the littlest happily rocked in the swing. I attempted my husbands favorite Cream of Leek Soup with Parmesan Potato Dumplings.It was one my culinary masterpieces that I loved to create on a cold day. 

It was in the afternoon as my two-year old  napped I sleepily chopped the vegetables and boiled them to perfection. It just at the right moment as I was about to puree my creation my little darling awoke from his nap. I got him settled with his toys.  I  then went back into my zombie state thinking I should have had the nap instead of making the dreaded soup.

But what is a girl to do? It was time to puree the leeks! I went to place them in the blender, placing the top just so, pressing the button on high, and that is when all hell broke loose! The devil had possessed my blender!

The top exploded off the blender with gusto!  Chunks of leek  hit the ceiling, the stove, the curtains, covering me, and the children. The blender had taken on a force within itself and was shredding its wrath across my sparkling kitchen.

I felt utterly defeated against this possessed demon and did what any reasonable women would do…I pulled the plug, sat on the floor,  and wailed my little heart out. It was the tearful wail that takes over your whole soul and alerts  the dead to run from your tracks.  I was blinded with tears! I attempted to contain the  snot from running on the floor by wiping my nose with a shirt sleeve covered in leek guts.  The fight against the demon blender and willful leeks had taken the last of my energy!

It was at that moment my husband arrived home early from work to discover the leek massacres  of 2003.  It was to his horror to see one woman covered in gunk tears running down her face sobbing on the kitchen floor, one child running amok dragging the chunks with him as he went, and one little baby patiently waiting for someone to clean – up the mess.

The only thing  of comfort my husband could  say was “Honey, lets open some wine and order a pizza!”

What is one of your worst cooking disasters? Did you ever attempt to make it again?

The One with the Peanut on Top

October 6, 2011 By in Blogging, creative writing, fun, funny, Humor, musings, my life, peanut butter addiction, squirrel peanut butter, the one with the peanut on top, writing prompts Tags: , , , , , , , , , 30 Comments

[Tilly Bud The Laughing Housewife serves up a silver lining with her daily humor. Can you believe she schedules her posts three times a day?  I wish I had that dedication! She asks "If you were only allowed to write about one thing i.e. your blog had to have just one topic, what would it be?"]

I have an addiction to Peanut Butter I love it in the morning, love in the evening, and even in the afternoon. It compliments my beverage of choice whether it  be milk, coffee, tea, wine, or beer. It offers me comfort on a dark day. And happiness on a good one. It is the one thing in my cupboard that I can depend on when there is nothing to eat. Peanut butter in a word is my true love.

My addiction came about the time I was seven! It was around the same time the ad for Squirrel Peanut Butter invaded the TV waves with the slogan the one with the peanut on top.

Everytime my mother would bring home a new container of peanut butter I had to be the first to have the peanut on top!

Sometimes my oldest sister would torment me with the fact that she had to have the peanut  “It wasn’t fair that I got it all the time.”Looking back she was fourteen and I was seven – I think she could have forgone the peanut.

My mother to keep the peace and tired of teenage hormones would scold me to ask first before taking it with the unpleasant reminder that it was very rude not to share the peanut. I would then be sent to my room to think about my perilous mistake!

Of course, how could one peanut cause such a ruckus? I’ll never know…But I do know I take comfort in a peanut butter sandwich or cookie any day over a peanut!

If there was one food you had to blog about what would it be?

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